ERRR! ERRR! ERRR!
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Dr.Levras laboratory was smoking and pulsed alive with a myriad of neon and crystalline colors spanning the entire spectrum.
The emergency alarms and radiation's warnings blared throughout the entire building without end.
Something major was happening.
"WARNING: RADIATION LEVELS CRITICAL. EVACUATE IMMEDIATELY. WARNING: RADIATION LEVELS CRITICAL."
"BOYS! Welcome! The party's just getting started!"
Vice President Kulkin kicked the good doctor one more time, dusted his clothes off and turned out with a great big smile on his face and open arms.
"Don't mind the bitch."
"Mr.Vice President Sir!"
His elite team of specialized military operatives all saluted him.
Aka Grim Reapers, the presidential goon squad.
Their backgrounds? Nonexistent.
Every mission issued to them? Completed, without fail.
If the public were to ask, do they exist? The answer is no.
If high ranking military officials were to ask, do they exist? The answer is no.
The people who have seen them?
Never lived long enough to tell anybody about it.
Privy to the President, and the Vice President—not even the director of the CIA and the Chairman of Joint Chiefs of Staff knew of this elite squad of killers.
A team of five irredeemable men, with a combined kill count 2,000+.
And they were here to retrieve the target and take him back to their blacksite—a young man who went missing inside a NASA center six months ago—except, when they stepped inside the laboratory, all they found was chaos.
"Take a gander men."
The VP did a 360 showcasing the glorious scene unraveling around them as if it were all his doing.
"We've evacuated everyone and secured the building SIR. There is a chopper right outside waiting for us with the special EVAC unit! Say the word and we're out of here!
The VP chuckled and stuck his hand out to shake the elite team leader's hand.
Captain Price otherwise known as Blackbeard stood tall, his rugged bearded face partially hidden behind a gas mask, the unmistakable mark of experience etched in every line on his face.
His stance was commanding, exuding authority and a quiet but lethal confidence.
His military gear was a mix of practicality and readiness—he wore all black fitted over a broad, muscular frame, boots well-worn from countless missions, and a utility belt brimming with the tools of his trade.
A rifle slung across his chest and a pistol tucked at his side were just a part of the arsenal he always carried, the symbols of a man who'd been through hell and come back to tell the tale.
"At ease gentlemen. At ease—Captain Price, thank you for your service."
The operators took a second to regroup and inhaled the scene around them.
They didn't even know what to make of it
Papers were strewn about everywhere, broken glass on the floor, computers and consoles were smoking and flashing all sorts of warnings and errors.
Some were even on fire so the sprinklers had turned on—water rained down from above and soaked everything causing sparks to fly.
What happened in here? What's in that containment pod and why the fuck is it glowing?
They were all waiting for their leader to ask what was going on.
They all knew not to ask any questions when they went out on missions but even Price couldn't make heads or tails of the situation.
How did the lab get this bad? He had to bite the bullet and ask.
"With all due respect sir—what the fuck happened in here? Is that the target in there? Did they do this?"The VP laughed and shook his head up and down—"I mean just what happened in here boss?" Price looked around and scratched his head with his gun.
"You wouldn't even fucking believe it if I told you John—he turned around and pointed to the containment pod, "that fuckin glow stick in there is the kid who disappeared 6 months ago."
Price finally got the picture of what happened, or at least some of it.
Did he? At least he thought he did.
Why was the containment pod glowing like that? The target is in there? Why is there steam?
Is that blood splattered all over the glass?
We have to go in there?
Too many fucking questions, never enough answers I'll tell you that.
On top of all of it, the VP had a huge grin on his face amidst all this destruction.
Sick fuck that guy.
Can't say I blame him though, people like him—like us, we thrive in it.
Destruction makes us giddy.
"At least the ambience is nice," Price said aloud, "I need a smoke…" He reached into his pocket and pulled out pack of cigarettes with the skull of a Native American war chief on it, only to touch his face and remember—"fucking gas mask..."
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"WARNING: RADIATION LEVELS CRITICAL. EVACUATE IMMEDIATELY. WARNING: RADIATION LEVELS CRITICAL."
The containment pod began glowing brighter, flashing mysteriously with otherworldly neon light through the glass.
VHHHMMMM VHHHMMMM VHHHMMMM
VHHHMMMM VHHHMMMM VHHHMMMM
With each flash, a low, deep, resonant hum could be heard as if something were charging up.
"Fucking hell." Price muttered under his breath, eyes narrowing at the pulsing, radioactive glow.
His hand went instinctively to his rifle, adjusting his grip as the tension in the room thickened.
The VP chuckled watching Price react to the chaos.
"Give me a pistol John—better safe than sorry. Things were going well until the bastard started overheating and threatening a nuclear meltdown! I'll tell you what—I don't know what's going on in that pod—but we're gonna find out."
The VP was shitting it on the inside, sure, securing Mirus and expanding the nation all across the globe sounded like an amazing idea and all but the motherfucker on the other side of that glass was also scary as fuck.
"Krusch."
"Oui capitaine!"
One of the operators in the group, a French man—Price's right hand man, ran forward and handed the VP one of his guns.
Lucien Krusch was a man carved from chaos, the kind of soldier who thrived where others faltered.
He had the lean, wiry build of someone who could slip in and out of any situation unnoticed.
His face, partially obscured by a shadow of unkempt dark hair and his gas mask, was cold and unreadable—a face that had seen more than its share of death and destruction, and reveled in it.
A scar snaked across his jaw, an old reminder of the violence he'd embraced in his mercenary career.
He believed himself to be a lover, not a fighter but Despite his calm demeanor-Krusch's eyes betrayed something darker—there was an edge of madness in them.
A flicker that suggested he found satisfaction in the chaos that swirled around him.
"Thank you soldier."
Krusch gave him a salute then got back into formation.
"Look alive boys," The VP took aim at the glass.
VHHHMMMM VHHHMMMM VHHHMMMM
VHHHMMMM VHHHMMMM VHHHMMMM
Three of the operators started bitching and complaining in the background. They were solid guys but they reserved their to complain when they felt like shit was going to hit the fan.
"Shit is getting spooky in here dawg."
"They do not have things like this in Putin's Russia."
"Oh shit…the pod is blinking faster captain!"
Tch!
Price Clicked his tongue in annoyance.
"I can see that dumb ass, get your shit together Randall. Bo, Mikhail—Shut the fuck up. I don't want to hear it right now."
White dude out of Montana, named Randall with a strange philosophy—his specialty was bombs.
He's a jittery one, motherfucker is always on edge.
His eyes had a wild glint to them, scanning every corner in the room like a cornered animal, but his hands never shook when he reached for his rifle.
He wasn't afraid—just over-caffeinated and overstimulated per say.
Mikhail, crazy fucker outta moscow hiked up off of Methyl Tren, the guy always had a snarl on his face—whether it was the test or something darker inside him.
His veins ran with the kind of aggression that made him good in a fight, but you'd never know what the hell he might do next.
Dude wasn't mental—he was just fucking roided out.
"The fuck? Man, I didn't sign up for this shit Price. Is that nigga an alien or sumn'?"
"Tighten up Bo. All of you tighten up—we have orders."
The Vice President turned his head and eyed the operators voicing their concerns.
"Heh—Bunch of sissies on your team John—I'll tell you bitches what's in that containment pod god dammit, more money and potential than any of you psychotic fucks have ever seen in your fucking miserable lives."
Price smirked, cocking his AK-47.
"You hear that boy's? If we bag this son of a bitch, it's gonna be a big pay day for all of us! You god damn mercs…"
Instantly their attitudes brightened, and their eyes showed a renewed focus like a veil of uncertainty had been removed from infront of them.
"OooRah, Hell yeah to that brother."
"Amin'"
"Fuck yeah!"
Krusch could only shake his head and sigh.
"Fucking idiots, Après nous, le déluge…"
"Don't you start with apocalyptic shit Krusch, I got a fine piece of ass waiting for me at home— I'm gon' make it back."
Bo briefly broke the tension and they all laughed.
He was a towering figure, a hulking presence amongst his more compact teammates.
If was Mikhail was wide, then he was tall.
At over six foot six, he loomed over them like a shadow.
His dark mahogany skin and clean fade gave him an edge, but his eyes were the real weapon—cold, calculating, and always watching.
In the middle of chaos, Bo was the collected. He wasn't there to prove anything—he was there to survive–More importantly he was there to get paid!
But more often than not he tended to be the voice of reason amongst his peers.
VHHHMMMM VHHHMMMM VHHHMMMM
Louder and faster the hum increased with each second ghastly passed.
"I wanted to take the bastard without harming him,"The VP sighed —"But this is already out of my control…" The VP thought about it, and it really only took him a second to make a decision—he shrugged his shoulders,"Fuck it, light him up—If he's worth anything, he'll live."
Price raised his hand in the air.
"Reaper's—Stand by!"
Meanwhile inside the pod…
Mirus could no longer see what was around him—but he was livid.
More so than that he was desperate.
Radioactive energy violently surged and swirled around Mirus like an unstable neutron star.
His body is in flux and Parts of it were shifting in between different states of matter and stardust floated him like radioactive cosmic snow.
He was a solid, then parts of him turned liquid and others gas.
He raised his hand to his face and looked at his index finger and blue fire erupted from it—then he put more effort into it and the fire then turned into plasma and multichromatic lighting shot forth from his finger.
His eyes widened in surprise.
He felt it, he could wield this power.
He could escape!
"I swear to god I'll kill them all if I have to…" He looked down at his hand and made fist, but he had to do a double take and inspect it—he felt something there—something...
An invisible force!
Atoms, Molecules, Isotopes—energy.
Curiously, he reached out and poked the air—BOOM!
A medium sized explored occurred and the atoms around him began to decay.
The operators all stepped back with caution seeing things were still combusting inside the pod.
Mirus's eyes widened in surprise again.
"Alpha particles…"
As an astrophysicist/astronomy major and someone who has obsessed with all things astral his whole life—he understood and had a faint idea what was happening around him.
"Incredible…"
Mirus was amazed, he couldn't believe it—he had super powers!
This was his all time favorite what if scenario!
I've been waiting my whole life for this!
Minus the trauma, he could've done without the trauma…
"Reaper's—Stand by!"
Mirus heard the Captain's command and his head shot up quickly.
Price gave a forward point and the VP gave the command—
Fuck theyre going to shoot me!
"FIRE!"
Mirus could hear their fingers pulling their triggers back.
"OH SHI—BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!
Mirus put his hands up and his head down!
He clenched his jaw and braced himself.
"FuCK…"
BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!
Three fully automatic rifles, two sub-machine guns and one pistol all took aim and fired on poor Mirus.
"HAHAHA HOW DO YOU LIKE THAT YOU SON OF A BITCH! YOU'RE MINE BOY!" The VP shouted like a madman.
Mirus was shitting it—Of course he was!
This was the first time in his life he'd been in a shootout, and he was on the wrong end of the gun!
"AHHH FUCK…please…fucK…Stop!"Mirus could only scream in fear and curse in frustration as an onslaught of bullets came at him.
BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!
Bullets came flying in and hit him in his shoulders and mid section—"AHHH!"
Another four went through the reinforced steel pod and hit him along his right leg.
WHEWH WHEW! Price turned to look at Bo and whistled hearing it pur.
"Got em baby!" Bo shouted as kept firing his P90 Submachine gun.
Reflexively, he focused all his power on his hands when they started firing.
Du! Du! Du! Du! Du! Du! Du! Du!
The bullets that threatened to rip through his hands all melted before they could hit him.
The temperature in the room skyrocketed and the area surrounding Mirus began to glow red and all the electronics in the pod exploded.
Sparks dramatically flew from behind like pre-maturely lit fireworks on the 4th of July.
For a moment the bullets stopped and Mirus slumped a little.
"RELOAD!"
Price shouted at the top of his lungs. The operators blew their clips within seconds.
This time the steam cleared and he could see everyone clearly.
Six people were lined up in front of him in an arrowhead formation trying to sentence him to death like a firing squad.
Damn!
What the fuck is this!
He looked to check where he got shot expecting to see blood only—there wasn't any?
There weren't any bullet holes at all.
Not even a scratch.
Actually his body was perfect, he looked like fucking Hercules!
And he was glowing?
His skin pulsed and twinkled like a diamond when light hit it or like an Ethiopian black opal with its myriad of colors—his veins were like the aurora borealis.
When did this happen?
"Holy shit…" He quickly muttered under his breath.
"I'm bullet—BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!
An invisible wall of radioactive heat formed in front of his body and melted the next wave of bullets that came at him.
The ones that made it through just bounced off of him.
"Pri–Price! Our bullets aren't hitting him, he's melting them down! How's that possible?!" Randall shouted from behind, he was the first to notice it.
"I told you that nigga is an alien man! Like he's from fuckin Krypton or something! God damn man! I shot that nigga! He's fuckin bulletproof!"
Bo, right now, as big and bad as he was—looked like he was about to be the first person out the room.
Randall looked fucking kooky like always did, fucking clown.
"I don't really give a fuck, Mikhail shoots for fun. If he dies—he dies." Mikhail said in his drunken Russian accent.
TCH!
Price clicked his tongue in frustration.
These fucking guys! Price hand picked all his operators and he had love for them—But fuck, they had their flaws.
"Keep fucking shooting!"
Click! Click!
Price ran through another clip, they all did so they reloaded.
The VP shouted, "COME ON! WE ALMOST GOT HIM! WHEN THIS OVER, IM GIVING A HUGE BONUS TO THE FUCK THAT TOOK HIM DOWN!"
Mirus took this chance while they were reloading and cautiously began to levitate forward with his hands up.
He remembered how it felt to have his body in flux and how it felt to channel energy through his finger.
Determined to make his attackers pay, he concentrated fire and lighting into hands.
As he crept forward, lighting and fire began to crackle and jump forth from his fingers—Krusch noticed this and his eyes widened in shock.
"Capitaine!"
As the leader of the team, nobody was getting that bonus but fucking Price.
He understood immediately, and called upon one of his idiots.
"Randall! Throw me a bird!"
In the blink of an eye there was a grenade in his hand and he was tossing it over to Price.
"You betcha boss!"
Price caught the grenade and smiled at it, catching his reflection in its dark grey metallic sheen—"Hello beautiful," he pulled the pin—and—chucked that motherfucker.
FWOOOSH!
"See ya!" He shouted as he let it go.
Randalls bombs always packed more punch than they should have.
Truly.
His one grenade was the average joes C4.
He turned around in a hurry and shouted, "EVERYBODY GET DOW—ZZZAPPPP!
A massive bolt of multi-chromatic lighting hit Price in the back and the top half of his body exploded and blood erupted from his lower half like a geyser—POP!
"PRICEEEEE!" The VP shouted in disbelief, his best guy…Blew up right in front of him!
"CAPITAINE!!" Krusch screamed as well as he watched his brother in arms die.
His blood and guts rained down on them from above like a viscera fountain.
Price threw a fastball before he died—the grenade cartwheeled in the air violently as it flew toward Mirus at top speed.
ZZZAPPPP!
ZZZAPPPP!
Mirus shot another two lighting bolts that flew right at the VP and Randall.
His body hummed with energy as his fingers crackled with fire and lightning.
The air around him shimmered, charged by the immense power he was wielding.
"Shit!"
The VP dove out the way last second but Randall got his lower right half his body blown off and his testicles vaporized.
"AHHHHH! MY LEG!"
Time seemed to slow.
Right in front of Mirus'eyes was Randalls grenade, inches from his face—he could see himself through its metallic surface reflecting the eerie glow of his multichromatic lighting and cosmic radioactive aura.
In that instant, Mirus' eyes and body began to grow with bright white light—BOOOOM!!!
His body shifted—his molecules fractured, his form flickered, and in the blink of an eye-he turned into sparkling multi-chromatic gas, a mass of swirling vapor, completely dissipating into the air just as the grenade passed through where his face had been.
Mirus could feel the heat and pressure of the grenade's explosion push against him as he transformed— and he could still feel his very essence shifting between states of matter!
Oh my god I'm gonna die this is so fucking weird!
He'd never been in a gaseous State before.
But his form reformed instantly, solid once more as the blast dissipated into the air.
The explosion behind him sent a shockwave through the air, and Mirus grinned darkly, levitating, feeling the surge of energy as his body remained unfazed, his powers feeding on the explosive chaotic energy around him.
My turn!
He looked down upon the team who rained bullets on him.
His hands crackled with even more power now, ready to unleash fury on those who dared attack him.
He tucked his elbows and brought his knees to his chest and started harnessing energy.
The air around him shimmered with electric charge, the hum of building energy vibrating through the very space he occupied.
"ARRRRGGH!"
"You're all dead!" he yelled, his voice dripping with bloodlust and dark anticipation.
Then, with a sharp, violent shudder, he unfurled, his body snapping out like a bolt of lightning, and his hands flared with explosive energy.
A violent burst of fire, electricity, and plasma shot forth from him in a torrent, a release so fierce it felt like the air itself was torn apart.
And all hell rained down from above.